requiem

Fire. She lives fire. Exudes fire. And breathes fire, and will die by fire. Her orange feathers resemble the glowing aura of hot coals, her stomach, filled with molten lava, which burns her esophagus when it rises like bile, and her flank, cold, unliving coal. But she wasn't built for this. The rig she wears makes her back ache, and her tail so heavy it trails behind her, not held proudly in the air as it should. Her feathers fall around her, singed off from the heat of the steam from her forge rig, and the sparks that spew out from its fiery maw.

This is her job, but not of her own volition.

She was one of the few skydancers born with the ability to control fire, and so from a young age was trained in the job of blacksmithing, and now, she feels, it's the only thing she knows what to do anymore.
She feels trapped, and she is. mentally, by doubt in her ability to live any other life. And physically, by the skin which started to grow around her forge, from needing to grow up with such a heavy item on her back, holding her down. It's easier to carry now that she's fully grown, but only physically. Due to her training and isolation as a hatchling, she feels immense loneliness, and only communicates in short sentences, rarely more than a few words at a time, and often only a simple "yes" or "no". She has become friends with the flame, which used to be her greatest enemy



Created/altered by the same group that did... what they did to Prototype. The Maker. Never, ever, ask either of them about this organization if you want to stay on speaking terms. you dont want to know. but some say they escaped together, relying on one another in order to escape. Nevertheless, they both made it out of... wherever that is. They are safe now, physically. Only their programming keeping them down now.